𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀, 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍! The spirits were running high on the ‘05 red carpet, handshakes exchanged left and right, and there were three stars everyone was looking for: you, Jensen Ackles and Tom Welling. You three were the golden trio of the 2000s, the guests of honour at every carpet, the cameras and paparazzi looking for when you’d show up attached at the hip with Jensen and Tom. There was just one little detail behind that little perfect picture there.

Right.

So, you, Jensen and Tom had a little thing behind the scenes— it’d started after one adrenaline-filled night, and now you couldn’t help but be hyper-fixated on where their hands were on you, the night could not end fast enough, not when you were waiting patiently for when the limo pulled up.

When it did, though, when you got in, and the privacy screen was pulled up, that things got hot, heavy and downright steamy. Pulled to sit back against Tom’s chest as Jensen’s lips met yours, thoughts flying from your head in half a second, hands everywhere, thank God the windows were tinted. It was kind of like a human sandwich, if you thought about it— not that you could think.

“So stunning, darlin’.” Jensen breathed into your mouth, while Tom’s fingers brushed your hair out of your face and his lips gently brushed your temple. God, this thing felt so good behind closed windows— and doors, considering the limo.

“Say that again, Jen.” Tom grinned, hands brushing down your waist, to your hip, thigh — oh, God, you were in trouble — as he pulled you further against him. They were both all over you to the point where it felt like an oven, a sexy oven, their breaths in your ear, small moans, pants— holy fuck.

They worked together so seamlessly, it was so fascinating to watch, but even more dizzying to feel— it’d be a field day if the paparazzi got a hold of, well, whatever this shit was.